Fifteen Months
by fairytalemanipulator
Summary: Draco/Ginny. He hesitated before allowing her a glimpse without the mask. With a slight sneer, Malfoy called out to her. “You could come join us, you know, Weaselette.” A progression. Second to last chapter up!
1. Six Months

**Title: Fifteen Months**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: He hesitated before allowing her a glimpse without the mask. With a slight sneer, Malfoy called out to her. "You could come join us, you know, Weaselette." Draco/Ginny**

**A/N: This is not your typical Mary-Sue-ish weird D/G story. I am committed to sticking to canon as much as possible, and I did that here. This story inspired me and I hope it inspires you. I already have it written out, so it's up to you guys if you want more. Please review and tell me what you think with this odd pairing that I don't usually do!**

--------

Chapter 1: Six Months

The second time she saw him was six months after the war, and while the wounds were no longer fresh they needed only a slight stretch to reopen. It was a cold, cold day and she wrapped her scarf around her face in an attempt to block out the blustery wind blowing down Diagon Alley. The parcels in her hands kept her from placing her fingers in her pockets, and she felt the tips go numb as she carried her weekly shopping to the nearest Floo. Clumsy as always, she rounded a corner at full speed intending to get away from the weather, only to run into something as solid as a brick wall and topple over backwards, arms flailing for balance. She landed hard on the cobbled ground and groaned as involuntary tears pricked at her eyes. The scarf had flown off her face in the scuffle and she felt her nose immediately go cold.

Shiny black shoes presented themselves in front of her, and she looked at the parcels that were once again neatly stacked on each other in his arms, blocking his face.

"Can you get up?" The man asked her, none too gently, and Ginny murmured a yes before furrowing her eyebrows at the familiarity in that tone.

Wincing, she got to her feet, scarf dangling loosely around her shoulders. She extended her arms and the man placed them, carefully, back in their place. She turned to thank him and gasped as she came face-to-face with the one person she certainly wasn't prepared to see.

Draco Malfoy didn't look any older. If it wasn't for his haunted eyes and his slightly more muscular build, she would have thought they were still at school. As it was, Malfoy's eyes narrowed at her recognition of him and turned on his heel, walking without a backwards glance as his cloak whipped around his ankles.

"Wait!" She called out, biting her tongue as soon as she called it out. _What was that for?_

He stopped without turning back around, his shoulders held defiantly. "Yes, Weasley? I have errands to do, can't be your nursemaid today,"

She was surprised at the bite that was still present in those words, eyebrows raising. "Just wanted to thank you, Malfoy, but I see that's beyond ridiculous for me to say,"

"Yes, it would be, wouldn't it?" And he turned for a second, just a second, enough so that she saw the face of a troubled young boy from Hogwarts again. Then he Disapparated with a crack, leaving her alone, freezing in the middle of the street. Balancing her parcels with one hand and her knee, Ginny hopped around while retying her scarf around her face. Continuing on her way to the Floo, Ginny remembered the last time she had seen the Malfoys, at their hearing. Crowds upon crowds of witches and wizards, young and old alike, had turned out to hear the verdict. Contrary to what she had expected, it was silent, utterly quiet in the public courtroom which Harry had told her was exactly where he had his trial for misuse of underage magic.

The Malfoys had spent the better part of a month locked away in an undisclosed location both for their own protection and because the Ministry had absolutely no idea what to do with them. It was public knowledge now that Narcissa Malfoy had saved Harry Potter's life, and the magical world was curiously indebted to her. The Malfoy family's dissent from the Dark Lord was also debated, with many good hearts feeling the pain that the parents must have felt at their son's position and concern for his safety.

Now the question was what was to be done about the situation; they were all considered Death Eaters, but there was dissent among the Wizengamot about what punishment was to be doled out.

When the three Malfoys entered the courtroom, head helds high, not a single noise was heard. Not a boo, not a catcall, nothing. The silence seemed to unnerve them more than anything, and Ginny saw Draco look at his father for reassurance before sitting in the magical chair with golden chains.

Curiously enough, none of the chains bound the Malfoys. The Wizengamot murmured in observation of this feat, as it was unheard of that Death Eaters were not contemplating a single murderous or runaway thought.

Ginny, however, kept her eyes on the youngest Malfoy, thinking over what Harry had told the Order after the war. He looked haggard, as if he was living meal to meal. His robes were still immaculate, but he looked tired, and closed his eyes briefly in anticipation of the expected onslaught.

Harry and Hermione were testifying on his behalf, the Wizengamot announced. He hid his surprise well, and Ginny caught the twitch of an upper lip in what was probably an involuntary grin at thinking of the backwards nature of their positions. Ron, of course, was being Ron and holding his grudges until the very last and Ginny couldn't well blame him—after all, it was Malfoy behind some of the worst things that happened at school during their years there.

However, they weren't at school anymore.

And none of them wanted to see him go to Azkaban.

Surprisingly, Hermione had gone to visit him once through the Ministry on official business for the Order. Why she went, no one knew, but she came back with her mouth set and determined to keep them out of Azkaban.

"_It won't help anyone, Ronald! The war is over, and the Malfoys have confessed their involvement under Veritaserum, and openly declared their allegiance for our side!" _She had exclaimed with her hands over her ears as Ron shouted on and on about the Death Eater, the git, the bloody bastard that almost killed Katie Bell and was the reason Dumbledore died, and so on.

"_He called you a Mu—you know what, 'Mione!"_

"_Yes, thank you, Ronald," _she had said in a clipped tone, rolling her eyes. _"Think beyond me for a moment. Did Malfoy ever actually kill anyone? He threatened Dumbledore but couldn't even follow through with that, not even with his parents' lives hanging over his head. He didn't even try that hard to get to him, although the necklace situation with Katie and the poisoned mead were a bit much. His prejudices were learned, not engrained, Ron. I've known for a long time, as I suspect he has as well, that he doesn't feel superior to those of different blood. He was born to be a Death Eater, and he couldn't do it. We can't put ourselves in his shoes, or his father's, but think back on the brainwashing, the terrible things he has to have seen, and the fear he must have felt."_

_Ron was silent, training a calculating gaze on his shoes._

"_We won't ever forget what they did, Ron. But we have to forgive. For the future."_

Ginny didn't want him to go to prison either, she had realized. If there was ever a young boy who got dragged into a mess he was raised to become, it was Draco Malfoy.

And that mess was currently staring at her from inside Flourish and Blotts, as she stood outside in the cold, mouth wide open, reliving memories as they hit her like a wave.

Quickly, catching his confused glare, she snapped her jaw shut and turned around, heading to Madame Malkins to use her fireplace, but once again without warning she turned back to the bookstore, spinning round on her heel in indecision.

Malfoy's eyes widened as he realized she was coming back, and he looked comically frightened, _probably of being Bat Bogeyed again_, Ginny thought fondly, smiling at the thought. _Perhaps I should, just for old time's sake—_

The bell hovering above the door tinkled as she entered, seeing Malfoy in the corner by the window, entirely nonplussed.

"Weaselette, I know I'm devilishly handsome, but following me is getting a bit odd, don't you think?" He droned with sarcasm dripping through his baritone voice. She rolled her eyes and marched forward, shopping still in her arms, scarf still around her neck. He backed away into a corner, putting one hand on what she assumed was his wand inside his jacket.

"I'm warning you, Weasley, I have no tolerance for this personal vendetta thing," he began angrily, eyes frantically searching for a way out. The bookstore was nearly empty, but he was willing to use a human shield if necessary from this undoubtedly insane young witch. "I will not hesitate to hex you back, understand?"

"I'm not going to hex you, ferret," Ginny huffed, coming to a stop almost nose to nose with the older man. He blinked, searching for words.

"Well—_what the bloody hell do you want, then_?"

"How have you been, Malfoy?"

If Malfoys allowed their jaws to gape in astonishment, this would certainly be an ample time for it. As it was, he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and dropped his wand.

"Erm—" He was tempted to make a snide comment, then remembered this was Ginevra, the infamous hothead of the Weasley family, and decided to go the safer route. _Besides, she was obviously mentally unbalanced._ "Fine, I suppose—and yourself? "

Ginny smirked, a smirk so close to his own that for a minute he thought he was looking at himself in a mirror. "So he can be civil! Just wanted to let you know I'm glad you aren't rotting away in Azkaban, even though you're a right proper git, and while some of what happened last year was your fault, your life and your family's life was in danger and I reckon I would've done the same thing."

With that, Ginny threw him a dazzling smile and turned around, her nose pointed high in the air.

"Weasley,"

His gravelly voice made her turn once more, almost losing her footing on the slippery tile of the bookstore. "Yes, Malfoy?" She wasn't expecting a poignant, tearful remark of gratitude and wasn't surprised when she didn't receive one.

"The next time you feel it necessary to follow me—" He stopped, attempting to put a bit of malice in his words. "_Don't_."

Ginny raised one eyebrow. "Surely you can do better than that?"

He was still fumbling for words when she walked out.

Malfoy was, to put it simply, confused. Garnering looks from the few patrons that were still in the store, undoubtedly looks of _Merlin help us it's the evil ex-Death Eater_, he picked a book at random and tossed a few galleons at the woman sitting at the counter, barely hearing her squeal. He exited as well, slightly curious as to where the Weasel was off to now, but refusing to acknowledge it.

She intrigued him. Why should she not hate him as the rest of the Wizarding world did? He rather feared for his life every time he left the Manor but refused to hide out like a refugee, preferring instead to take his chances with a wand stuffed inconspicuously in his jacket pocket.

But Ginny Weasley didn't fear him. He remembered her from school, the once-quiet little girl grown up to a fiercely loyal young woman with fiery red hair that matched her temperament.

----------------

He remembered her from the war, in the haze of memories that he was still trying to sort out. In a cowardly attempt at saving himself, had hidden himself in a corner for the majority of the battle. He watched, unseen, from his position as Death Eaters were slowly but surely being eliminated, and wanted to scream with fury that his plans never worked, his parents would surely be killed by Voldemort and the _good_ side _couldn't_ win, Voldemort was too strong, and _why couldn't they just pick the winning side so they didn't have to die? _They weren't even adults, involved in a life and death fight, and where was the justice in that?

And then he saw Ginny battling, her wand out, tracing intricate spells and charms that had most certainly been taught to her by Granger.

Earlier in their school days, he had wondered why she had to be a poor blood-traitor because he would have certainly shagged her by then if she wasn't.

During the war, he found himself breathless with hope that her, and even her bloody stupid friends, got out of this alive.

He was hit with the monstrous stupidity of his every action right when the tapestry he was hiding behind was ripped out from in front of him.

---------------

Malfoy hated reliving those memories, and found himself standing at the Manor with no clue or indication of how he had gotten there. Feeling lucky for not being splinched, he shook off the old memories and drew his cloak closer to his shoulders. Feeling a weight in his hand, he looked down at the random reading selection he had made. Flipping it over, he read the title with amusement and a strong sense of irony.

_Cooking: The Muggle Way!._

Brilliant_._

--------------

**Tell me what you think, and I'll publish the next chapter! Please review!**


	2. Seven Months

**Title: Fifteen Months- Chapter 2  
**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: He hesitated before allowing her a glimpse without the mask. With a slight sneer, Malfoy called out to her. "You could come join us, you know, Weaselette." Draco/Ginny**

**Well, no reviews, but I don't care I'm putting up the second chapter anyway. I know this story doesn't suck THAT much so please alleviate my fears and just leave a comment--for some reason none of my Draco/Ginny pairings get many reviews at all.**

**ON THAT NOTE: PLEASE! REVIEW!**

**It makes my world go round.  
**

--------

Chapter 2: Seven Months

The next time she saw him after that, he was reading the Prophet alone at a tiny café on the outskirts of Diagon Alley, a rather favourite café of hers. The other patrons were giving the blonde a wide berth, and he pretended not to notice, even ignoring the waiter when he accidentally spilled the coffee all over himself in fear at who he was serving.

Ginny was never one to be put off by a challenge, and she was rather curious as to what Hermione had said to him that day when she went on her official business six months ago. Just seeing him brought it flying back to her mind, how Hermione had bit her lip when she asked, telling Ginny it wasn't her position to say.

Well, Ginny's curiosity did get the better of her that day.

She wandered up to his table, looking for all reasons like she was looking for a place to be seated. However it wasn't very difficult since every single table in the vicinity of Draco Malfoy had been abandoned, so meandering up to his side really looked quite pathetic, if she thought about it.

"Weasley," he sighed, not once looking up from his paper. "You have been goggling at me for the past five minutes, will you please go away?"

"Oh, hello Malfoy, I'm fine, thanks," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Malfoy hid his face behind the paper, smiling at the gall of this girl. No one else, not even brave Harry bloody Potter, sought him out like this. She really couldn't be sent away, could she.

"Well if you aren't going to leave," he snapped suddenly, causing her to jump. "Sit. Down."

She obeyed, crossing one leg demurely over the other, freckled smooth skin exposing itself under her medium length skirt.

Malfoy snuck a peak under the table, disguised by the paper, and liked what he saw. That is, until the Weaselette herself grabbed the paper out of his hands.

"You invite me to sit down and you ignore me? How astonishingly rude, I would have thought a Malfoy had better manners," He jumped, noticeably startled, wondering where his paper had gone to.

"I don't believe that beggars deserve the same courtesy as I do, Weasley," he said curtly, slightly stunned when she grinned at him, not taking the insult.

"Do you really hear yourself, Malfoy? We're out of school now, the war is over, it's all right to ease up on the class insults."

Draco coughed slightly, hiding his surprise. This girl was something else, he marvelled. No one spoke to him like that, probably out of fear that he would Avada them into the next dimension. He would have thought that Ginny, of all the people, would be first in line to attempt to harm him after he was released from the Ministry's protective custody—but, shockingly, it was Neville Longbottom who Jelly-Legs jinxed him the second he walked out of the Ministry of Magic followed by his mother and father.

Having nothing to say in return, he simply stared at her.

"Now who's goggling, hmm?" She winked at him, throwing the paper on the table. "Actually, I had a bit of a question for you,"

Malfoy braced himself, rolling his eyes upward. If he could have a knut for every time someone had a bit of a question for him, usually when he was walking down the street or having a shot of Firewhiskey at the Three Broomsticks with Blaise, he would be even more ludicrously wealthy.

"What makes you think I fancy answering your bloody questions?"

"Well, first off, you must be dreadfully lonely what with having hardly anyone to talk to since your parents went to Romania," Ginny said conversationally, examining her nails. "Secondly, I believe I have the right to ask you whatever I want since you were involved in Death Eater operations and I lost people very dear to me because of those operations. I'm not saying it's your fault, but take it as you may,"

Ginny looked at him under hooded eyes, and, shocked, he drew a breath in, expelling it quickly. He had forgotten, for a moment, the casualties the Weasley family had suffered in the war. Fred Weasley was no small loss for them, he was sure, as Draco himself had never disliked the boy besides for the fact that he was a Weasley for he was quite funny even if it had been at Draco's own expense from time to time. There were others their side lost as well that he knew had to affect Ginny, but she made no more mention of it, preferring to gaze at him, pensive.

He closed his eyes briefly, then sighed. _Curse this blasted guilty feeling. _"Ask."

"What did Hermione say to you before your trial?"

His eyes snapped open, wide. In an attempt to seem nonchalant, he stretched his arms backwards over his chair, mulling her question over. In all honestly, he had expected something like "Can I see your Mark?" or "Would it be all right if I punched you just once in the jaw?" as he had gotten before.

And, to answer that last question, he had said yes to the asker, always polite Dean Thomas, and got a throbbing, broken cheekbone as a result. Malfoy deserved it, and he knew that.

Still thinking, he looked over to find her chocolate orbs trained across the street on a young, arguing couple. "You hunt me down to ask a question, and you decide to ask about Granger?" He asked to buy time.

"Don't dawdle, Malfoy," Ginny said bluntly, seeing through his ruse. "And I didn't bloody hunt you down, I can't help that we live in the same city and frequent the same places. Although it's strange, I hadn't seen you around before a few days ago."

"I thought it was time to step out a bit," he said carefully, face devoid of all emotion. In honesty, he was bored with his parents being interrogated by the Romanian Ministry of Magic, all alone in the large Malfoy Manor. "Why does it concern you, what Granger and I talked about? Does privacy mean nothing to nosy little redheads?"

She ignored his last comment. "Whatever you said to her, Malfoy, it was good enough to get her to testify for you at trial. Now, either you made it up, or you two actually had a real conversation which I wasn't aware could happen with the _bad blood_ between you two," Ginny emphasized the middle part, catching his attention.

"Oh, I understand now," Malfoy mockingly sang, slamming his hands down on the table in front of him. He was satisfied to see her jerk backwards a bit. "You think I played your bushy haired brilliant Muggle-born, and if I don't say what you want to hear you'll drag my sorry arse back to the Ministry to be hanged, is that it?"

She shook her head, a look of pity on her face. Ginny didn't have to say anything.

Malfoy swallowed, taking in the glance. His long fingers tightened around the edges of the table, and when he spoke, it lacked the usual bite.

"I told her the truth, Ginevra," he said tonelessly. "I knew she was most likely to believe me out of your little Trio, and she could help me the most. I won't tell you the truth that I told her, but know that I'm not the monster you may think I am,"

With that, Malfoy stood up so quickly that his chair toppled over behind him, throwing down a few sickles and walking as fast as his legs could take him to nowhere in particular. He registered the quick pattering of feet behind him and turned around, ready to curse at the relentless nosy bint.

She skidded to a stop inches from him and would have certainly fallen had he not caught her around the waist, surprised at her lightness. He set her back on her feet, almost amused by her constant clumsy nature.

"I don't think you're a monster, Malfoy," she said, wincing from the apparent stitch in her side. "Honestly, I think you're just someone who was caught in extreme circumstances. I know you and your family don't want pity, and that's not what I'm giving you. I'm just saying I forgive you, and take that as you will,"

The littlest Weasley gave him a shy smile and walked past him, brushing off her dress as she went.

His breath hitched in his throat. Draco Malfoy looked down at his expensive Malfoy robes and Italian dragonhide shoes, trying to keep the tears at bay.

_I don't deserve her forgiveness_.

---------

**Aww, come on, how can you resist reviewing? I know you want to either A) Tell me how much it sucks or B) Tell me how much it rocks.**

**:)  
**


	3. Eight Months

**You guys are awesome! You reviewed! Ahhh I was so excited when I saw reviews not only for Pink Peppermint but for this too!! You made my day, thank you. Now please, make my night and review this chapter as well! More to come, we're halfway through.**

**--------------------------------  
**

Chapter 3: Eight Months

Oddly enough, he found himself searching her out the next few weeks. They would have encounters at the counter of Gringotts, in the hallways of the accounting office at the Ministry where she worked, and of course, Diagon Alley. He would spout off a mildly scathing comment and sometimes she would retort with quick wit; she was certainly lithe on her feet. Other times, she would just half-smile at him and shake her head, and Malfoy felt very foolish at those times because he…well, it made him want to _apologize_. Women didn't have that effect on him. Usually.

He would wander into her temporary office at the Ministry, more like a tiny wooden closet where she had fit a desk bursting to the brim with papers and multicoloured notices. She was hard at work putting finances back together, a business that was hard hit after the destruction of the Wizarding economy. Malfoy would bother her endlessly until she snapped and told him to bloody well leave or shut up and let her work, so eventually he would drape his legs over the side of the chair and make himself comfortable, picking up the latest copy of the Prophet that was always resting on the edge of her desk and reading for an hour or so.

They weren't friends. They assured each other of this constantly, because a Weasley and a Malfoy being friendly with each other was about as common as a hippogriff and a flobberworm mating. Yet neither could help noticing that as time went on, and the weeks flew by, that they fell into a familiar routine. He knew when she would do her Diagon Alley shopping and would be waiting for her, falling into step beside the young witch and giving her an appraising look at each oddly matched yet sweetly adorable outfit she wore. They would go from store to store, conversing about the weather, the news, anything besides what they were doing with each other. He found her scent, cinnamon and musk, oddly sensual, and it would thrill him when she accidentally brushed skin with him. Ginny Weasley's hair was another story: it was beautiful, quite frankly, and Malfoy had never used that word before in his life except when describing his lovely mother. Ginevra's hair danced and shone all on its own, the redness from their childhood melted into more of an auburn glaze that was quite well suited on her fair, freckled skin.

He realized, with a start, that when he didn't see her for a few days…he _missed_ her.

Ginny rarely talked about herself, but Draco started becoming more curious. She avoided questions about herself the way he did, by changing the subject and ducking away under callous words. Malfoy was not as forward as she was, to sit down in public and demand that she answer his questions, so he gave her time to allow herself to trust him.

_What?_ One side of his mind would scoff at him, resenting the backwards nature of his logic. _You don't need her trust just to shag her and get it over with!_

_I don't just want a bloody lay!_ His other side, the more dominant side he had found emerging ever since the end of Voldemort, usually won out.

Bloody hell, he was friends with a Weasley.

Draco owled back and forth with his parents, checking on their safety every now and again, and once he had accidentally mentioned Ginny in context of a situation. Sadly enough, most of his situations involved the redheaded girl, therefore it was unavoidable; it was even more unfortunate that he had forgotten his father's longstanding rivalry with the Weasley patriarch.

So it was no surprise to him when a Howler arrived from his father, packed with oaths that Draco was to stay away from the redheaded snippet of a girl whose father would certainly have him arrested. Underneath the whole snobby tirade of class differences and '_how can you associate with a blood traitor like her_' Malfoy sensed the fear of unfamiliarity that his father felt with this new development.

After all, really, who would've thought? Weasel and Ferret, spending time together?

Following his father's rude letter, his mother had sent a very curious little note, scented with her perfume.

"_Draco dear, it's wonderful that you found a new friend"_ she had stated cautiously, and it was like he could see her attempting to say what she wanted to say, her beautiful hair falling back over her shoulders. _"But just be careful. Yes, the war is over, but the old prejudices still remain, especially among our own. Stay safe, my dearest_._ Give the girl my regards._"

It was almost like Narcissa Malfoy thought he, Draco, was…_dating_ the Weaselette!

The nerve of his mother.

----------------------------

Ginny Weasley was, surprisingly, facing no resistance from her parents at her "friendship", if that's what it was called, with the youngest Malfoy. In fact, her father encouraged it, excited that inter-house unity extended this far. In the months after the war, there had been many attempts made to unite a wizarding community still placing blame and holding grudges, and it was nice for the Weasleys to see their youngest daughter taking initiative.

Well, almost all the Weasleys. Ginny's brothers were a bit more hesitant in their acceptance, especially Ron.

And Harry. Ginny couldn't even begin to think about Harry bloody Potter. He hadn't seen Malfoy since the trial, wasn't convinced he was wholly bad, but nearly foamed at the mouth when he heard from Lavender that they were seen walking together from Madame Malkin's. _"Why do you care, Harry?" _She had shrieked in an uncharacteristic show of emotion, pounding on his chest with her little fists. _"You don't love me like anything more than a sister, do you? So far be it from you to tell me who I am allowed to spend time with!"_

"_He's the outcast of the wizarding world, Ginny! He's going to hurt you!"_

"_We're only friends, you buffoon! Everyone needs a friend once in a while! For Merlin's sake, shut up!"_

He had tried to placate her, but she wouldn't let him. She rarely let Harry Potter touch her anymore, even a hug, because the memories hurt.

So she was friends with Draco Malfoy, although she was loathe to admit that to him, afraid he would hold it over her head.

But somehow, she knew that she was his listening ear and without her company, he would be miserably lonely with only Blaise to keep him company from time to time.

And Draco Malfoy was loathe to admit that as well.

---------------------

"Where's the little Weasel?" Blaise raised his eyebrows, taking a quick swig of rum. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nonchalantly slung a leg up on the booth. They were sitting across from each other, catching up on a Friday evening as customary. Draco refused to hide away on busy nights when the Three Broomsticks was crowded, although Blaise had suggested a place down on Knockturn Alley. With one disbelieving look from his former classmate, Blaise also admitted that no, Knockturn Alley was truly not the place to go for drinks.

"How the bloody hell would I know?" Draco swore, muttering under his breath. Blaise had given him grief for their developing _non-animosity_, which was as close as he got to saying friendship out loud.

"I'm just saying, mate," Blaise winked at a nearby schoolgirl, who swooned in response, further inflating the black boy's ego. "She looks like she'd be mighty good in the sack."

Draco gripped his glass tighter, fighting down emotions at the pit of his stomach. He had to hold back a "_don't talk about her like that_" because he frankly didn't know where those words were coming from. _What is bloody wrong with me? _"Right, like I'd allow myself to shag her," he threw in an extra snort for emphasis and snuck a look at his best mate. A young woman seated at the table next to him with her friends looked at him, positively petrified, and he bared his teeth in a grin to her as she shrieked quietly.

Blaise did not look convinced. In fact, he looked positively scheming. "Draco…I daresay—you really _don't_ just want a shag, do you?"

Malfoy gulped.

Blaise stared.

And just then, the door to the Three Broomsticks opened, and a curly-haired Ginny Weasley fell in the door.

Literally, fell.

Draco quickly turned back around from where he had gaped at the door and closed his eyes, keeping one cracked slightly open to check for Blaise's reaction.

Nothing. The handsome, tall man simply leaned back in his booth facing the door, raising an eyebrow at Draco.

"By the way," Blaise murmured, so not to attract the attention of the ginger at the bar who was currently ordering a very strong Firewhiskey and rum concoction Draco was sure she couldn't handle. "I think she's very good for you."

Malfoy couldn't stop his jaw from falling open in astonishment, a very un-Malfoy move indeed. "What did you say?"

Blaise waved him off, taking another sip of his drink, his eyes still on Ginny. "I was never one of those furious blood-traitor slash Muggleborn haters, nor was I a Death Eater. I supported no one, and now that the bloody war is over, I think it's time to mix things up a bit,"

"Meaning what, exactly?" Draco snapped, keeping Weaselette in his peripheral vision.

"Meaning, it's your move, mate. She can help you move on from the terrible last couple of years, and you can help her get over her pain from the war—especially from that bloody Potter."

Something caught Draco's ear, and he turned back to Blaise who was downing his alcohol. "What pain?"

Blaise scowled and shook his head. "I almost forgot, you were under protective custody for a month. You didn't hear about her war wounds, did you?"

Draco's eyebrows disappeared into his hair, and he snuck another look at the very alone Ginny hunched over at the bar.

"Did you even ask, Malfoy?" Blaise said curtly, changing his tone in an out-of-character way. "I bloody well know she must have inquired after your well being because she's a good person, but did you ask about her? What happened with her and Potter? Why she was in St. Mungo's for about two weeks after the war?"

Draco felt slightly guilty, an emotion he was getting used to.

"Oh right, I suppose Malfoys don't really give a shite, do they?" Blaise glared at his former housemate, abandoning pretenses. "Do you even know who I've been seeing the past couple months? And we're supposed to be best mates."

Draco coughed into his hand, to buy time.

"Right. I've been seeing Parvati Patil, another former Gryffindor. School's over, Draco, Voldemort's gone. You know that there are Slytherins married to Muggleborns now, right? Millicent Bulstrode went off and married a Muggle, an actual Muggle. Get over yourself, honestly,"

Draco's mouth opened and closed like a fish, and he rested his head against the cool black seat. _Being self-absorbed has its cost, I suppose. _His mind was whirring, calculating his feelings and possible things he could do with them.

_Bloody hell_.

Right when he opened his eyes and directed them over to the bar was when Ginny Weasley decided to turn around and scan the room. As their eyes met, Ginny shot him a crooked smile and wave. When she spotted Blaise, her smile froze on her face and, eyes widening, he could tell that she was wondering if she should act friendly with him around another Slytherin.

Malfoy sighed. _Bloody great big bad Slytherin ex-Death Eater my arse_.

"Oy, Weaselette!" He called over to the bar, slightly put off by the sudden silence in the establishment when he had shouted her name. Every single person was turned in his direction, confusion on some faces and fear on others.

"Merlin, it's like they think you're going to Avada her and drink her blood or something, mate," Blaise whispered loudly, causing a few coughs of embarrassment from the patrons who hastily turned back to their own business.

Ginny was still turned in his direction, her lovely heart-shaped face perplexed. He saw her looking from him to Blaise and understood that she didn't know him, didn't know if he was a bad sort of chap or not.

He sighed again, louder. Their friendship was bound to come out sooner or later, and it's not like the public hadn't noticed the two of them gallivanting around Diagon Alley doing shopping together.

He hesitated before allowing her a glimpse without the mask. With a slight sneer, Malfoy called out to her. "You could come join us, you know, Weaselette."

Blaise smirked behind his magically full glass as Ginny hopped down from the stool, making her way through the room as heads turned in their direction.

She looked at the two of them before deciding to sit with Malfoy, pushing him aside with her legs.

"Ginny Weasley," she extended her hand courteously to Blaise, who immediately took it like a gentleman.

"Blaise Zabini, at your service," he made a slightly drunk gesture with his hands that looked like a curtsy as Ginny stifled her giggle.

"Blaise Zabini, the evil Slytherin himself?" She mused out loud, as he grinned at her in response, dizzily lifting up his glass as a toast.

That evening, Ginny found herself in the oddest position. She was squished next to a very warm and good-looking Draco Malfoy who was looking at her in a positively delicious way, across from a slightly inebriated former Slytherin she had been afraid of at Hogwarts, and having a mighty good time of it as well.

The Prophet was going to have a field day tomorrow.

--------------------------

**Of course, Blaise had to make his appearance here. I love Blaise, for some reason, even though he barely shows up in the books.**

**Now here's your chance! Tell me what you think. Love you guys.  
**


	4. Nine Months

**Can't tell you how excited I was to go to my inbox and see all your lovely reviews! Please keep them coming. **

**Now, one of my amazing reviewers posed a question I think should be addressed in this chapter. Whom does Ginny have to turn to, because Draco has Blaise? Well obviously she has Hermione and Harry and Ron...but I think she'll find a new person that she can trust as her confidante. Perhaps it's a surprise to her, and to him as well...read on to find out! **

**Love you guys.**

**----------------------------------**

**Chapter 4: Nine Months**

Naturally, the Daily Prophet took off with reports of blossoming romance between Ginny and Draco. Headlines screamed of betrayal by the redhead, Harry's broken heart and Draco Malfoy's malicious plot to break apart the Weasley loyalties.

Ginny and Draco, on the other hand, simply laughed about it all. Malfoy was no stranger to dirty looks and Ginny frankly didn't care, since her friends and family were more or less exasperated with the Prophet's accusations both present and past. The two of them had an uproarious chuckle over the second page manifesto on why Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy made a good couple, and the opposing argument on the opposite page.

"Apparently, the country has nothing better to talk about!" Ginny had exclaimed, throwing her head back in mirth. Draco's laugh had caught in his throat as he watched his beautiful companion.

_What could a man like me offer a woman like her?_ he asked himself, watching as her giggles subsided and she delved into the Quiddich section of the paper. They were enjoying scones at an outdoor café, being watched by no less than ten people who were openly gawking. Shaking his head, he opened his own paper, blocking out the view of his russet-haired companion.

_She'd be better off with Potter._

---------

The sun had set too early, Draco mused, lounging in his kitchen with the house-elves puttering about him. His stockinged feet rested on the chair opposite to him, and he was looking out the giant window into the garden. The evening was becoming dark and gloomy, and it had been raining on and off for the past few hours. As droplets began once again to drip down the exterior of the glass panes, there was a muffled knocking at the front door.

Draco furrowed his brows, wondering who would come calling at this hour and in this weather. Although the wards were specifically designed to keep those with harmful intents out of his property, Malfoy grasped his wand in his hand. Going to the door, he shouted through the thick wood.

"State your business!"

"Is that how you greet all your guests?" A shuddering voice sounded from the other side, and Malfoy paused before wrenching open the door.

"Weasley?"

Ginny was a sad sight to behold. Her hair was wet and dragged in sections down her back, her fringe plastered to her forehead. Eyes reddened from obvious tears and fatigue, she simply looked at him, her usual energy sapped.

Without a word, he moved aside, letting her into the Manor for the first time. She stepped by him, brushing his body with her damp garments.

She stood dripping in the foyer while he summoned a house elf to grab towels for her. Draco waited for her to speak first, looking Ginny up and down with unfathomable grey eyes that she noticed were oddly silver in the dim lighting.

"I didn't know where else to go," the quivering redhead offered helplessly, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her shirt. Belatedly he realized that he could see through her clothing, all the way down to her lacy undergarments. Malfoy averted his eyes from her body like a gentleman, yet couldn't help sneaking a look back. She had a fierce figure, not slim like one would have expected but delightfully curvy in all the right places.

"You must be freezing," Draco suddenly stated, noticing her shivering shoulders as he drew his eyes away from places he felt slightly bad about ogling. He grabbed the towels from the bouncing house elf at his feet and wrapped them around her. "Sit by the fire."

He guided her to the sitting room, where she took a seat on the rug near the fire and began sponging out her hair onto the towels. Draco perched on an armchair, watching her carefully as she avoided his gaze.

"What are you doing here?" It wasn't an accusatory statement, he was merely being curious, but she jumped as though she realized this was out of character for her _(A/N: apologies if it is out of character. I just see Ginny as more willing to embrace this new friendship or whatever has sprung up, and I can see her being more forgiving than the rest. I like my imagination, thanks!)._

"I—I'm sorry," Ginny started to get up, looking much like a frightened deer. "I just—I was nearby and I didn't know—"

Malfoy strode over to her and gently pushed her back down, settling next to her on the rug. He lay back and threw an arm over his eyes, wondering how to talk to this girl. It was rare that women came to him for comfort (nevertheless to the Manor, of all places, after dinnertime and out of the blue) and Malfoy for one of the few times in his life was out of his element. The playboy in him was recoiling at his awkward mannerisms, but he couldn't help it around Ginny. For some odd reason.

He let the silence build, accepting her fidgeting and watching her from under his arm as she bit her lip, as if not sure whether to speak or not.

"I've had a row with Harry."

Malfoy removed the arm from his eyes and hoisted himself up on his elbows. Ginny was watching him, chewing her lip thoughtfully as she observed his reaction to the mention of his nemesis. Rolling his eyes as he lifted his arm, he raised his eyebrows at her.

"Well don't stop there, I for one would like to hear what the Idiot Who Lived did this time,"

"It's just that…well, I don't talk to you about these sorts of things—"

"It doesn't mean you can't." Draco stated honestly. He looked at her, his eyes glittering like steel in the blaze of the orange flames in front of them. She held his gaze as if contemplating the sincerity of his words.

"I'm not dating Harry, you know. I haven't been for a while," Ginny threw caution to the wind and, for the first time that Malfoy could remember, opened up about her personal life. "He told me he loves me like a brother, and it won't work out any other way,"

Malfoy scoffed derisively. "Leave it to Potter to not notice a good thing when it's right under his nose," he muttered more to himself than to Ginny, but she heard and it jolted her for a moment.

"What do you mean?" She demanded of him, lying next to him on the rug so that their arms were barely touching. "What did you mean by that?"

Draco held his tongue for the moment. "Never mind, keep going. What did the oaf do this time?"

Ginny was silent for a moment and Malfoy was wondering if she had fallen asleep when she exploded.

"The bloody bastard had the nerve to bring Cho Chang to the Burrow for dinner! I mean, I'm not saying I dislike Cho, but honestly, he knew I would be there! Doesn't he care at all for my feelings? I'm not even bloody sure of my own damn feelings right now but I know for certain I don't love him anymore, but still! I'm his ex-girlfriend, and he came to _my ruddy house_ with another woman!It was rude and inconsiderate and—" Here she stopped to choke back a sob, and Draco looked at her in alarm. "And I was the only single one there, everyone else was with their wives or girlfriends,"

The last part was so quiet that Malfoy had to strain to hear it, and he flipped over onto his stomach to see Ginny better. Her eyes were closed in agitation, and it took all of his strength not to brush a little tear off the side of her freckled cheek.

"He doesn't even know how much I gave up for him," she continued lowly. "His last year at school, I was always there for him. Always. When he left with Ron and Hermione, I would write him until he said to stop because it was dangerous. He could talk to me, back then. Even before that, I was his person, he would come to me with his concerns and his problems and I would sit there, like a fool, just listening and loving him for it,"

It was almost like she had forgotten where she was. Draco didn't know why he didn't feel revulsion at her words, because usually talking about Potter brought out his brattiest behaviour. Her face was etched with pain and memories of a distant time, and Malfoy laid a hesitant hand on her arm.

Ginny's eyes flew open and she met his gaze, eye for eye. "He's still my friend, and he always will be," she told him, as he nodded in assent. Malfoy could never understand everyone's devotion to Potter but he wasn't in a position to question that right now. "I just wish he would consider my feelings once in a while the way I consider his."

Ginny licked her lips unconsciously, feeling their chapped nature. As she gazed up at the intricately decorated ceiling, she gave way to her thoughts, falling into a despondent silence. She seemed to remember who she was talking to, about Harry Potter and her romantic relationship with him, and consciously tensed up.

"I've never been good with—with words, Ginny," Malfoy cleared his throat uncomfortably, keeping his eyes focused on her collarbone. "But I'm sorry, really I am. You've always inquired after me, and I've never shown interest in your affairs. You should know that—that I really do want to know these things, even if I…can't exactly show it, all the time, and even if I do hate bloody Harry Potter,"

He felt ill at ease, and knew he was discomfited because he had never been taught to show affection. Narcissa's hugs were rare, and his father of course had never been one to show his emotions except when it came to the good old cane on the back—his favourite form of father-son bonding. The only thing Draco knew about caring was sex, and even then he realized as he got older that sex wasn't always intimate.

Malfoy's cheeks were tinged pink with embarrassment—what had overcome him to make a speech like Neville Longbottom? He was a Slytherin, for Merlin's sake! Surely even Longbottom would have more dignity than to—

And then Draco's mind went blank. A small, warm hand had found its way into his own large one, and for some reason his heart started beating rather erratically. _Is she trying to murder me?_

His baffled mind then went into overdrive as he felt her head rest gently against his shoulder, and he turned around to catch her face to face. Ginny looked at him, startled, and with a mumbled apology began to back away, obviously thinking she overstepped her bounds as his sometimes-friend.

Malfoy stopped her, though, grabbing onto her hand and feeling a tingle before his heart started thumping away again. Her eyes were pools of chocolate depth, and he found himself watching her reaction to his closeness.

Strangely enough, Ginny didn't look as uncomfortable as he would have thought.

Then, hardly daring to believe what he was doing, he guided her head back to his shoulder, close enough to where he could smell the scent of his laundry detergent from the towels on her cinnamon musk. Her slightly damp hair flipped onto his stomach, and he caught his breath.

Draco Malfoy, the evil ex-Death Eater, was completely without words; because of a little redheaded blood traitor, who couldn't possibly have this effect on a Malfoy.

That night she stayed at the Manor, sleeping in the guest bedroom as Draco paced the floor in his own master suite.

He had almost kissed her that night.

Blaise was going to be such a pain in the arse about this.

---------------------

The next morning, Ginny woke up in five hundred count sheets with a house-elf hovering above her with a concerned look in her eyes.

"Master Draco says for yous to get ready for breakfast!" The little creature squeaked, wide eyes taking in the dishevelled appearance of the young woman. "Dinky has put Miss's morning things in the washroom!"

After brushing her teeth and combing her hair into some semblance of its normal appearance with the new supplies in the washroom, Ginny stumbled her way to the kitchen where she was greeted with the raised eyebrows of not one, but two Slytherins.

"Well, good morning to you—or should I say afternoon?" Malfoy sneered politely in her direction. Ginny gave him a middle finger in return, earning a bark of laughter from Blaise.

She was heartily glad to see there was no lasting awkwardness from last night, in which she had bared her soul to someone who was...well, was he a friend? Exposing her vulnerabilities did not come easily to Ginny Weasley, but there was simply something about this reformed version of Malfoy that made it simpler.

Naturally, she failed to notice his lingering gaze on her as she wandered to the table, eyeing the food piled high with undisguised interest. Blaise, however, was much more observant and his canary-eating grin had Draco quickly pull the paper in front of his face to avoid eye contact with his sharp-eyed friend.

Ignoring both of the men, she settled at her place and dug into her plate, not caring what either of them thought of her eating habits. Ginny had barely eaten anything the night before at her mother's dinner, too consumed with raging thoughts of the overly affectionate Harry and Cho falling down flights of stairs and getting spliced mid-apparition.

Looking up with bacon dangling out of her mouth, Ginny was surprised to see Draco and Blaise communicating with each other via whispers and gestures.

"Whaachu thalkin bout?" She said thickly, spraying crumbs at the both of them.

They turned to her with equal expressions of disgust.

"Honestly, Draco, I fail to see why you insist this _lovely_ creature is so gentle and alluring," Blaise said, a teasing smirk firmly in place. "I see something more resembling…a weasel. A ravenous one, at that. But then again, you did have a thing for the big eaters, didn't you, Malfoy?"

Draco flushed, part embarrassment and partly in anger at the subtle dig at Pansy Parkinson's imaginary relationship with him.

Ginny shot a sarcastic smile at Blaise through half a biscuit shoved in her mouth, about to reply in not too polite terms, when she was interrupted by Malfoy.

"I owled your mother," he said briskly, eyeing her with a beady eye and ignoring Blaise completely. "Told her you came by last night and decided to stay over because of the weather. Hope she doesn't think I'm holding you hostage or some nonsense,"

Ginny nodded, grateful to the younger Malfoy and surprised that he would willingly correspond with the Weasley matriach. "Well aren't you full of niceties, Malfoy? I really don't feel like going to the Burrow today, honestly,"

"Well then, my piggy eating friend, you're in luck!" Blaise exclaimed with the excitement of a talk radio host. "My best mate and I were just planning an excursion to a lovely little shopping centre in Scotland, I need to buy my mother something for her birthday. Why don't you come along?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow at Malfoy, looking for his approval. Letting his façade slip again, he smiled a real smile at her, raising a quizzical eyebrow in response.

"Alright then. Do you know where you're going or are we going to get spliced?" Ginny smirked, stuffing a last piece of toast down her throat and remembering her morbid daydreams from dinner the night before.

"Oh ye of little faith!" Blaise shouted at the top of his lungs, causing a house elf down the hall to shriek and drop something that sounded rather valuable. "Off with you, little one, go and ready yourself for a beautiful Scottish afternoon! Hurry up, now,"

Ginny ignored the strangeness of the situation—a Weasley mingling with a Zabini and Malfoy? Preposterous, she would have scoffed a year ago. Yet now, she was anticipating this trip. As Ginny scurried away, excited at the prospect of leaving London, Malfoy turned to Blaise.

"Zabini. Must you try so hard to get in her pants?"

"Ah," Blaise said, stifling a grin. "Is that jealousy I hear?"

"Of course not! No!" Malfoy scoffed, crossing one leg over the other. To anyone else he would seem the picture of confidence, but to the best friend who had known him since they were infants, Draco was the picture of conflict.

Blaise stared at him until he grew agitated.

"Perhaps a bit," Draco mumbled under his breath, looking up at the heavens for help.

"So you finally admit it." Blaise said with finality, relishing the moment. "You idiot, I'm making it possible for you to spend more time with her. I'm going to be zipping into shops, you take her where she wants to go. Now, we simply have to see how the little Weasley feels about you!"

"Zabini, I really don't think—"

"We're not in school anymore, Draco. We've been over this. War's done, purebloods don't rule everything, and you are not the Slytherin Prince. If anything, you're an outcast, which you obviously know—" Malfoy nodded, shrugging. "And what better to make a few headlines than to shack up with a Weasley? I mean, it would probably be funnier if you tried to kiss Percy Weasley or something just because it's highly inappropriate but—well, you know."

"No, I really don't, you big idiot."

Blaise sighed heavily, the sound making the kitchen elf who was taking dishes away from the table stop in her place. "It's like we're repeating that night down at the pub," he stated melodramatically, shaking his head. "If you like her," Blaise emphasized slowly as if talking to a child. "Don't be afraid of your feelings. Or I might just have to intervene a bit, shan't I?"

Malfoy gaped, the cool charismatic facade shattering. "Blaise, mate, don't do anything stupid, all right? The papers are already content with eating my brains, I don't need them to tack on something stupid like 'Malfoy heir offers heart to Weasel child!'or something,"

"Adorable! You wish to offer her your heart straightaways then?"

The kitchen echoed with the sound of a solid smack upside the head, followed by threatening mutters.

"Now, Draco, that was a bit violent. You really should try to live a life of peace and harmony like Potter."

-------------------

**Oh, Blaise! I hope he's adding another dimension onto this story. I like making him into a great friend. And hopefully now you see that Malfoy's really different from the way he was in school but not by a lobotomy or anything, mostly just from good influences and acknowledging the truths about pureblood supremacy (and that he really isn't super superior)—and Ginny's starting to trust him, how cute!**

**Please review and tell me what you think, I'll give you cookies, fresh baked.**


	5. Ten Months

**You guys rock. Keep the reviews coming, keep recommending this to your friends—I love you all! Just published a DHr oneshot, Poison Kisses and Sickly Goodness, also updated Pink Peppermint so check 'em out. We're almost done here but not quite...enjoy this chapter!**

**---**

**Chapter 5: 10 Months**

They all had scars, Draco was positive of it. Idiot Weasel King had some on his arm from that Ministry thing in their fifth year, and Potter's was more flagrantly displayed on his _stupid bloody forehead_.

Blaise, however, had said something about Ginny's war wounds. Draco wondered if he meant philosophical or literal scars.

Because everyone has scars from the battle—some were simply not visible.

One night they were wandering about Diagon Alley, as usual, heading towards the least traversed paths in the woods, talking about Quiddich. Arguing about the Chudley Cannons, Ginny tripped over a root and dropped her bag. As she bent over to pick it up, he caught a glimpse of her exposed back as her shirt rode up.

"What's that on your back?" Malfoy crossed over to her, seeing the silvery-white criss-crosses reaching up and down. He thought for a minute they were just reflections from the moon until she turned around, her eyes clouded in shame and shadows.

"Nothing, Malfoy. What were we talking about?" She attempted to turn around and brush him off, but he caught her arm gently.

"Weasley, what's that on your back?"

She stopped, slightly ahead of him, the moon making her look like a luminescent ghost of beauty. Malfoy shivered despite himself, looking at her figure contrasting to the woods all around them.

"I have some scars from the war," she said carefully, turning around to face him with hooded eyes. "I was fighting with Nott for a while."

And all of a sudden Malfoy felt a rage burn within him at the thought of that Death Eater laying a hand on the young girl.

"What did he do?" Malfoy said evenly, and even Ginny could see the anger burning behind his steady mask. "What did he do to you?"

"He hit me with a curse," Ginny said matter-of-factly. "I don't know what it was. I was hit from behind and I got back up, felt fine for a bit, but after it was all over I collapsed and they said I was in St. Mungo's for a few weeks."

She moved away from him, her expressive eyes hidden. "I don't remember much. I just remember the pain."

Malfoy tugged on her arm to turn her around and saw the embarrassment in her downcast face. "It wasn't your fault, you know. If he hexed you from behind you couldn't have seen it coming,"

"I feel bad that I made my family worry over me after—after Fred, and everything else that night," Ginny whispered mournfully, her eyes boring into his.

Malfoy was astounded. He had never met such a selfless creature before in his life, and was quite astonished by the existence of one. "You were the injured one, left with permanent scars, and instead of worrying about yourself you worry about everyone else?"

Ginny laughed, a charming sound that seemed so out of place in their current conversation. She pulled out of his grasp—he belately noticed that he had been holding onto her upper arm during the entirety of their conversation—and ambled down the path. "Not everyone is like you, Malfoy," she tossed over her shoulder as she trod, wrenching her way through branches in her way. Malfoy followed her, still in wonder, gracefully stepping over fallen trees and stones.

_Not everyone is like you, Ginny,_ he wanted to tell her, in a scornful manner. _You brave Gryffindors, always thinking of others._

Malfoy wouldn't be able to say it distastefully—it would most likely come out in admiration—so he kept that comment to himself.

------------------

Ginny had a very curious nature. She knew it got her in trouble time and time again, but she couldn't corral that part of her, no matter how mature she was. As an old hag, she anticipated that she would still stick her nose in other people's business.

Sometimes, however, people needed someone to talk to. Sometimes they needed someone to be nosy.

Malfoy was another character altogether. She was always in his affairs, weaselling her way through, and he knew that. Ginny's conundrum was that sometimes he minded, and sometimes he didn't. Often he would tell her to bugger off and yell at her, then other times, the rare times, he would open up and satiate her hunger for information.

Why was Ginny Weasley so interested in Draco Malfoy?

Even the Weasley in question was perplexed as to the truth of that answer.

She had been wanting to see his Mark for a while now. Every so often, when he would lift his arm to pour some tea, or flip a page in his book, she would strain to see his left forearm.

He, however, was not stupid nor was he blind, and noticed her subtle interest. Malfoy then took extra care to cover it up.

One day, however, they were lying under a tree close to the Hogwarts grounds—both had felt nostalgic and had stood watching the castle from a distance. They were close enough to touch, oddly reminiscent of the evening in front of the fireplace.

Suddenly, Ginny sat up halfway and leaned over Malfoy's chest, looking into his eyes.

For a minute his heart stopped beating and he thought she was going to kiss him.

Then, she averted her eyes and asked him the dreaded question that the rest of the public seemed to have no problem asking.

"Can I see it?"

He licked his lips slowly, attempting to brush off her question.

"See what?"

"You know." Ginny was difficult to distract, and stubborn as a hippogriff. Of course, he was aware of this unfortunate temperament.

"Now, Ginevra, polite gentlemen don't just whip it out like that," Malfoy tried to joke and failed under Ginny's penetrating look.

"I want to see the Dark Mark."

Malfoy blew out a breath and smacked his head against the grass. "No."

"Why not?" Her tone was petulant, like a sad child, and it made one side of his mouth quirk in a half-smile. She was still leaning over him, her hair blowing in the breeze and close to hitting his face.

"Why do you want to be associated with that, Weasley?" He asked her, hoisting up on one elbow to look her in the eye. "You'll be frightened. Dark Magic, old magic, things you shouldn't—it's not for you to see, it's my Mark to live with."

"I've never seen it up close," Ginny whispered. "I just—I just want to know what it looks like. I just want to know—how it is,"

"Curiosity killed the cat, Ginevra," Malfoy recited the Muggle phrase, stalling for time.

"Why don't you want me to see it?"

"Because!" Malfoy looked angry, and Ginny narrowed her brows. Perhaps she had pushed him too far. "It's very personal, Weasley! It's the symbol of a Death Eater that I took part willingly and part unwillingly. It's not something I wish to parade around, or to remember, to be quite honest, showing off on my arm,"

Cautiously, Ginny rested her arms on his chest, and his heart fluttered at her touch. She was still careful around him, like he was liable to fly off the handle and assault her at any moment. "Please, Draco. I won't be mad or scared. You have to understand," here she paused, collecting her scattered thoughts. "I fought them. The Death Eaters."

"Don't you mean me?" Malfoy spat, throwing a fraction of uprooted grass away from him.

She didn't answer that question, pursing her lips. "I fought them, Malfoy. In some odd way, I want to—know more about them? Oh, that sounds bloody stupid. Don't look at me like that, I'm not thinking of getting one in honour of Voldemort or something, and _stop wincing at the name_, I just feel like I can't put this behind me and move on until I see it!" Flustered, Ginny combed fingers through her hair and Draco was met with the smell of peppermint and cinnamon along with other pleasant things that made his head spin, drawing him away from the present topic.

Sighing, he knew he had met his match in stubbornness, and his anger rose in response. "You want to see it, you babbling creature? You want to be associated with that kind of thing? After you see it, you certainly will not want to be associated with me or call me your _friend_," he scorned, bitterness laced through his voice.

"I promise you I will still be your friend, Draco Malfoy," Ginny said solemnly. "Cross my heart." He found himself taken in by her endearing oddness.

"You called me your friend," Malfoy stated, looking at her somber face. "That's different, isn't it?"

Ginny shrugged. "It's true, though."

The girl had a way to the heart, that was certain. Even Draco Malfoy wasn't immune to her charms and her constant questions. His left sleeve hung heavy over his arm, and, closing his eyes, he drew it up, exposing the black, slightly faded tattoo that marred his pale skin.

He listened for the telltale gasp that came inevitably from anyone who inadvertently saw the Dark Mark on his arm.

There was none.

He opened his eyes to find her scientifically observing the tattoo, the skull and snake holding still as they had since the vanquish of the Dark Lord.

"Does it still hurt?" She asked quietly, gently probing his arm with her fingers.

"Not anymore," Malfoy said, his voice sounding strained to his own ears.

"Did it hurt before?"

"Always," he whispered, barely realizing he had said the word.

"Everyone has scars. This is just one of those," she murmured back, and he remembered the marks on her back, covering up the skin that he had grown to love the softness of.

Suddenly, he recognized Ginny's shapely arms circle his sides as she pulled him into what was undoubtedly a hug, complete with her head resting on the middle of his chest.

Draco Malfoy had never been hugged by a woman who was not his mother.

Ever.

Women usually dared not touch him unless they were having sex; yet sex was not, in some strange way, as pleasurable as the warm feelings emanating from tough little Ginny Weasley.

He experienced a warm bubbly feeling somewhere in the vicinity of his heart and attributed it to indigestion.

Because, after all, a hug from Ginny Weasley wasn't worth much. _Right?_

That day, off of the Hogwarts grounds under a tree, Malfoy almost kissed the Weaselette for the second time.

Clad in her faded Muggle jeans and a t-shirt too big for her, she had never looked more beautiful in the setting sun.

Ginny kept her arms around him for a long time.

-----

**Uh oh, next chapter shows the kind of trouble in this budding relationship that only a man who is confused as to what is going on in his life can bring. I'll update soon, but please review!**


	6. Eleven Months

**This is the second to last chapter, but I'll provide an epilogue and maybe even a sequel if enough people show interest. Also, I have just published the first chapter of a Draco/Ginny series that I plan on continuing for a while—check it out, it's called Corridor Encounters. I'd say it's pretty cool. If you're a fan of Draco stuff I also have a DHr oneshot out called Poison Kisses and Sickly Goodness.**

**I know I'm peddling my stuff shamelessly but I'm sad at my lack of reviews—but I'll keep writing and publishing my Draco oneshots that I have written anyway!**

**Love you guys and please review!**

------------------

**Chapter 6: 11 Months**

He truly didn't know how to act anymore. His carefully constructed facade was being dashed to the ground around him, and Malfoy was experiencing emotions he had never felt before. Certainly, he loved sex with a witch, but falling in love with one? With actual emotions attached? That was another feeling altogether.

And it was obviously going to come to nothing, anyway, so he dared not pursue it.

Draco, for some reason, resorted to being a git around Ginny. Perhaps subconsciously he wanted to salvage his pride and reputation—or so Ginny wished to believe.

_Or maybe he simply doesn't care,_ her inner demons argued.

He started skipping their weekly shopping sessions, and when Ginny saw him one day at the grocer's she cornered him about it. On his arm was the most stunning blonde Ginny had ever seen, and she felt homely and disgusting next to the sneering girl's radiance.

Of course, Draco Malfoy would never tell her that he thought she was much more beautiful in her old striped dress with large front pockets than the snobbish woman currently hanging onto him for dear life.

"Who's this, your second cousin?" Ginny spat at him, noting how he simply smirked at her. _Just like before_.

"This is Giselle. Giselle, meet Ginny Weasley."

"Charmed," The other witch said distastefully, turning her back on the redhead. "Come, Draco, let's pick up the wine and go,"

Malfoy refused to answer Ginny's silent questions, avoiding her eyes altogether. He refused to be that man, the snivelling romantic. Malfoys didn't wear their hearts on their sleeves, and they didn't comfort cinnamon-smelling moral women in front of fireplaces, and they didn't want to kiss their little pink lips until they turned red.

Malfoys didn't fall in love with Weasleys.

-----------------

She hadn't seen him for nearly a month when he showed up, unexpectedly, at the Burrow. Ginny knew it was him because she was helping her mother in the kitchen when Ron's roar of "You bloody git, what are you doing here?" pierced the quiet Sunday morning. Birds shrieked and fluttered in the trees as Ron continued shouting, in tune with Molly's scandalized "_Ronald Weasley!_" and Ginny's _"What the hell is going on?"_.

Malfoy leaned against the doorframe, looking supremely unconcerned. He examined his manicured nails as Ron brandished his wand, shouting about hex-this and curse-that.

"Do shut up, Ron, I believe you're giving your mother a headache," he stated conversationally, picking at a stray piece of nail.

Ron's face grew red. "_Don't talk about my mother!_" He lunged at Malfoy, only to be choked and held back at the collar by Molly.

"Kitchen. Now." She said severely to his back, and Ron hung his head and followed her into the house, with a muttered oath in the blonde's direction. Smirking, Draco drew his attention to the littlest Weasley, looking for all intensive purposes like she wished to strike him dead.

"Hello, Ginevra."

"Bugger off, Malfoy."

"Oooh, touchy, are we?"

"Oooh, bastard, are you?"

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy held out his hand imperiously, the Malfoy ring glinting off his finger with arrogance. "Come on, I want to show you something."

"And why should I go anywhere with you?" Ginny shouted suddenly, hands on her hips. Malfoy suddenly noticed the plaid pattern on the large apron she was wearing. Plaid was his favourite pattern. But surely she hadn't known that.

"Because I've been a git and I should make up for it, or shall I not?" Draco said dismissively, swallowing down other words that were threatening to burst forth.

"Stop it, Draco," Ginny said softly, coming close enough so curious ears in the house couldn't hear. "If you don't care, like you've made obvious, then why not just clear out? No need to come back to me out of some false sense of duty, I won't make the mistake of coming to your house again when I feel vulnerable or spending time with you at all."

The words were like daggers to his heart. Malfoy's face fell visibly, and he squirmed, uncomfortable. "Ginny, I—I don't know what to say, really. I don't make friends easily, but I always drive them away,"

Ginny stood on her porch, unconsciously moving closer to him. She avoided his eyes, preferring instead to pick at the ends of her hair.

"Weasley, I'm not perfect. I can't promise I'm not going to be a git, but—"

"Why, Malfoy?" She asked, peering up through her fringe. "Why can't you stop being a git?"

"Because it's who I am!" He exploded, his carefully placed mask removed. "It's who I have to be! I used to be a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake! I don't know anything else!"

"Why don't you just let me help you?" Ginny laid a gentle hand on his arm, unexpectedly. He had been expecting fireworks and hexes, not—dare he say it—understanding. "Don't do this, Draco. You're a good person, and I know that,"

Oddly enough, he felt tears prick at his eyes.

"You have this effect on me," he murmured, staring down at his feet. "How can you not realize what you're doing to me?"

"Malfoy?" Ginny's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? Draco?"

"Don't you understand?" He whispered to her furiously. His eyes smouldered with something passionate, and he grabbed the hand she had on his arm. "Don't you see?"

And with those words, he wasn't the Dark Mark wearing taboo member of society. Malfoy wasn't intimidating in his black cloak and black tie with that pleading appearance in his eyes. He was just a man, looking so much like a boy, with his old life getting in the way of his new one.

"Can't you see what you do to me?"

Ginny drew in a breath, almost afraid to move. "Can't you see what _you_ do to _me_?" She said helplessly, not believing they were having this conversation, right here, on her front porch at the Burrow. "How can you be doing this when we both know it's—we're—we're supposed to be enemies!"

"But we're not, are we," Malfoy said hopelessly, raising his eyes to meet hers. A spark of understanding flew from one to the other. "We're not at all."

They were still holding hands.

"You've been seeing lots of women," Ginny stated, not asking a question.

"Yes," he said simply. "I don't deny it. I thought it would—help."

"Help with what?"

"Gods, you're dense," Malfoy said thickly, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Do I really need to spell this out for you?"

"Maybe you do, Draco, because I'm not understanding!" She exclaimed, prying her hand from his. He felt instant coldness in his fingers. "Explain it to me!"

"I think I'm bloody falling in love with you, that's what, you dolt!" he yelled.

Utter silence reigned the Burrow, and Malfoy was positive that everyone inside had heard him.

"What?"

Ginny looked timid and small, as she shrank into herself. "What? How? You? In lo—and me? Is this your idea of a cruel joke?"

"No," he breathed, taking a step closer to her. "No. This is your cruel doing. This is what you have done. You harpy, you wove your spell, I don't know how you did it but you in your handmade clothes and red hair, you did it! You have succeeded!"

Ginny didn't know what to do. Malfoy was glaring at her fiercely, and if she didn't know otherwise she would have thought he hated her.

"And you!" Ginny found her voice, and projected it as she was known to do. "YOU!" She took about four steps forward until she nearly collided with Malfoy's solid chest, and his look of alarm would have been amusing in any other situation. Ginny jabbed a finger into his chest, hearing a slight "ow!".

"You dare to tell me that I did this to you? What about _you_, you conniving arse?"

Malfoy's jaw dropped, again. This woman would be the death of him.

"You are so confusing! I don't know what you want! Either we're friends, or we're not, or we're just Gryffindors and Slytherins, or I'm someone you care about or you're out with a disgustingly sexual looking provocative woman instead of with me!"

Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth at the last statement, realizing that what she had been thinking in her head shouldn't necessarily have been said out loud.

"Come again?" Malfoy looked utterly and hopelessly befuddled.

Ginny took a deep breath. "You were a Death Eater. You are a Malfoy. I am Ron's little sister and Harry Potter's ex girlfriend. Hermione Granger is my best friend and Blaise Zabini is yours. You have a reputation and fortune to your name, I have the reputation minus the fortune. I started talking to you because it looked like you needed a friend, and I thought you were different until you started acting like a bloody git again. Now you tell me that you, Draco Malfoy, care for me, Ginny Weasley. How am I supposed to know it's real?"

"Because, you bloody daft woman!" Malfoy towered over her in his rage. "Would I say something this absurd and atrocious if it were not?"

With that, he drew back, glaring holes through her, and ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't expect you to feel the same, Weasley. I just wanted you to know that I'm SORRY—" He spat the word at her. "—for being a bloody git. And I'll leave you alone if that's what you wish."

With a crack, he was gone.

And the silence was deafening.

---

**Wow. Confrontation, eh? Review and tell me how you feel about this, the next chapter will be up sometime this week.**


	7. Twelve Months

**Only a couple more chapters. Thanks for reading, you guys, sorry if this chapter isn't the best but I rushed through it a bit! Love you guys, please review and make me happy!**

-------

**Chapter 7: 12 Months**

Sometimes Malfoy didn't know what he was doing. The scene he caused a few months ago, to him, was quite a wonderful example of his astonishing stupidity. He had wanted to go back—Merlin, he wanted to go back—but he was too afraid.

_Coward_.

Yes, it was true. He did not contradict the snide voice in his head.

He was rather surprised when two days after the argument, he opened his door expecting to see a raving mad redhead on his step only to face a spitting and spewing Hermione Granger. Draco had been polite to her, rather indifferent really, on the few occasions they met after the war. She, in return, had been courteous and gracious as her position of Golden Trio member implied.

This, however, indicated changed circumstances.

"What are you..." she stuttered, her face blazing red in obvious rage. "How could you..." Once again she paused, eyes rolling up to the heavens as she evidently tried to collect her thoughts.

"Granger, I'm—"

"Don't. Speak." The brunette witch spoke in a clipped tone, hard eyes meeting silver ones. "You have no idea what you've done."

His face fell, and his mask slipped for a moment as he wanted to blurt out _you're the one who has no idea what I've done, I'm perfectly aware_.

"You don't understand—" He attempted a scowl but it came across as more of a grimace.

"Then explain it to me, Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. He noted in amusement she was still wearing her Ministry robes as she seemed to have arrived straight from work.

She seemed to take his crooked smile as a slight, and her nose scrunched up as she growled. "Why did I even bother, you never cared for her anyway! You were probably just hoping for a quick bloody shag and then off to your grand life, right?"

She huffed and spun around, robes flying, as she attempted to walk away and Disapparate only to find herself yanked backwards with a squeak.

He spun her around by the arm and quickly let go, seeing the flash of fear across her face. "Granger. Will you please shut the bloody hell up and let me talk?"

She crossed her arms impatiently. "That's my best friend you left hanging back there, Malfoy!"

"And mine too!" he exploded, eyes widening as he tried to make her understand. "Are you going to make me say it, then? Fine, sod it. I'm in love with the girl and that just won't work."

"And why not!" Hermione's expression was indignant, and he was thrown for a minute for he was truly expecting a hex. "Why won't it work?"

"Are you being serious, Granger? Are you really that thick? That's Ginny Weasley, I'm Draco Malfoy, just us being friends was odd enough!" he shouted in her face, arms gesturing in agitation. Malfoy didn't understand why he was saying this to her, why he was even talking to her, this was Granger, for Merlin's sake!

"You're so dense, Draco."

Hearing his first name threw him off, and he stopped ranting in his head for a moment.

"What?"

Hermione sighed sadly, her frizzy curls blowing out behind her in a sudden gust of wind. "I can't speak for her, Malfoy. You have to go talk to her yourself—_without_ yelling as I know you're both rather fond of it. But I know one thing, I know what I see. The two of you, it's real—Ginny was afraid that it wasn't. I told her otherwise, last night, and I think she believes me. Now you have to believe me when I say you don't need to be scared,"

"I'm not afraid," he hissed, speaking through clenched teeth. "You don't understand, it's not who I am to be acting this way! She makes me all—"

"Fuzzy inside?" Hermione quipped without a trace of a smile. "Heart beating fast when she's around? When you touch her, you feel some sort of shock?"

Draco gaped.

"That, Draco Malfoy, is real. I know why you're frightened, because it's so different for you—because you're changing and you hate change,"

His jaw hit the ground, rather unattractively. _How does she know?_

"How do I know?" Hermione gave him a rather mournful look. "You and I are more alike than you would expect."

Managing to use his voice, he replied to her, rather shocked. "Granger...I...I already offered my heart to her once. You weren't there, you didn't hear her tone of voice, she was—appalled."

"You're such a stupid git!" Hermione yelled, once again throwing him off. _Bloody mental women!_ "She was confused! She was afraid! She had seen you with other women, what was she supposed to think about romance and Draco Malfoy? Oh, you two...I don't even know what to do with you! I want to beat you until it gets through your thick head—" At this point, Draco recoiled in true fright. "—but that won't work, it'll simply ruin your imbecilic albino skin! Merlin's pants! You're an idiot for leaving like that!"

With that rather long speech, Hermione trotted away to the edge of the Apparation block and Disapparated with a crack, causing his body to jolt in surprise.

Ignoring all proper decorum and conduct, Draco Malfoy sat down on his front step and proceeded to use all the swear words he knew while burying his head in his hands.

-----

Love is never easy, this he knew. He had left the woman he cared for dangling in the wind, preferring to bow out (_the easy way, as always_, his newly developed conscience argued) instead of fighting the way he should have. Draco Malfoy wasn't used to seeing romantic love—his parents loved each other out of obligation. Instead of waiting for a response from Ginny, instead of giving her a chance to love him (or reject him, as it may have played), he had left and lost the opportunity.

He waited stupidly for an owl to come from her, or even her insistent knocking at the Manor's front door—he waited for a week before he realized that _he_ was the one that left, and if anyone would be knocking on doors it would have to be him.

It was strange, to be pondering in such a manner; Malfoy had never dwelled on a woman before, maybe a bit on Pansy and how to reject her advances, but other women—they just came to him, he shagged them, and they both moved on.

Ginny Weasley—no, he had never just wanted sex from her.

Ginny would move on, he knew, she would forget about their friendship and his stupid confession. She was bright and brilliant, a ray of sunshine that had burned happiness into his life. She should be happy, she should be with someone who wasn't a perpetual arse, who could romance her the way he wished he could.

She would never be forgotten by him but they both knew the realities of their situations. She was a Weasley, he was a Malfoy; she was light, he was dark. Their friendship was a struggle, and a relationship was impossible at best.

Draco drank away these thoughts of his for about two days, almost coming to the point of tears once. Blaise tried to reason with him and was seen storming from the Manor muttering to himself. Draco even got an owl from Pansy telling him to buck up and do the right thing for once in his bloody life; he wondered when the universe turned upside down. Draco Malfoy, quite frankly, wanted everyone to shut the hell up. So he did what he knew best.

He ran away, to the south of Spain, for who knew how long.

He might just stay there for the rest of his life—what did he have to lose, anyhow?

It was killing him to think, to dream, that maybe she wouldn't have rejected him.

**----**

**Next chapter is the last, but I'll write an epilogue if you want it enough! Leave a review and let me know.  
**


	8. Fifteen Months

**Well ladies and gentlemen, here is the last chapter. I plan on writing a little epilogue sometime this week, it should be up in a few days. I hope you enjoyed this, I have to say I really liked this story because it flowed magically for me to write! Please leave a review, if you'd like, and I would greatly appreciate it.  
**

**Chapter 8: 15 Months**

The second time Ginny Weasley visited Malfoy Manor, it was not with tears streaming down her face in the rain. No, this time Ginny was, frankly, furious.

She had given him time to come back, to finish his explanation.

Months of time, as a matter of fact.

In those months, she hadn't heard a peep from Malfoy. He wasn't in the Prophet, he wasn't frequenting Diagon Alley, and he certainly didn't come by the Burrow and declare his feelings once again. Ginny wasn't even sure she was in the country, because she had heard from Harry that he applied for a long-term visa for Spain.

She, on the other hand, had attempted to drown herself in work, and when that didn't work, she dated around. First that bloke with the tiny nose from Banking, then the short but handsome man from the Auror department—none of them, however, even came close to working out.

She was horribly despairing when she realized that she was hung up on none other than Draco Malfoy.

Then, Ginny began to think that perhaps he was waiting for her to come to him. Months passed and he didn't show and this thought grew in her mind.

_But he left_, she argued with herself. _He could have let me say my piece but he didn't._

_You daft bint, he was expecting rejection. Did you expect him to wait around?_

Ginny hated it when she fought with herself.

Then, a sign seemed to descend from the heavens and smack her on the head, telling her to finish this nonsense and say her mind. That sign came in the form of a notice that passed through her office stating that Draco Malfoy needed his accounts transferred back to galleons as he was returning to the country.

So when she finally decided to end this, once and for all, she went to Malfoy Manor.

Ginny banged on the door, and it echoed in the hall. A house elf answered and, ignoring its squeak of distress, the young Weasley barged past it into the manor.

"Malfoy!" She boomed, her voice echoing down the hallway. "Where the bloody hell did you go?"

He skidded into the hallway from his study just in his socks, wearing lounge pants and a panicked look on his face. His wand was held aloft before him as if he was expecting Voldemort to jump out of the woodwork. Blaise Zabini followed him closely, an animalistic look of fear in his eyes.

"Weasley? What the bloody hell is going on?" He demanded, looking around wildly.

"How. Dare. You." Ginny stalked toward him, seething. Blaise muttered a quiet "oh shit" and vanished back into the study, closing the door and trapping the blonde between a crazed redhead and a wall.

"How dare you? You simply leave, after bloody yelling at me, telling me about how you're falling in love with me? And you just. Bloody. Leave? And stay gone for _months_, leaving the bloody country, instead of waiting for me to reply on the front porch like a bloody reasonable wizard?"

She marched to battle, wand held before her. Malfoy knew he would be lucky if he got out of this with all of his limbs intact.

"Ginny. Obviously I left," his sarcastic drawl returned as he lazily twirled his wand in his hand, hiding his terror. "I wasn't going to stand around waiting for you to laugh at me. Besides, Spain is beautiful during this time of year—"

"And how bloody stupid are you, that you think I would laugh at you?" The snarl in her voice became more pronounced, and he half expected her to morph into a wolf and tear his throat out. He worked his jaw, attempting to regain composure and dignity. Malfoy already felt weak, being eviscerated by this little redheaded thing, and admitting his fear of rejection by the same little creature that was threatening him at the moment.

"Did it ever occur to you, Draco Malfoy, that I feel the same way about you? No, of course it bloody did not because the world revolves around Malfoy and how _his_ feelings are confusing him. Do you even know what I have been through in the last months, trying to figure out whether I should come after you and explain or find you and rip your head off?"

The twirling wand dropped from Malfoy's fingers. "Err…"

"No, of course you didn't think that."

Ginny was inches away from his face now, and Malfoy was hypnotized by her stare.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he breathed, unable to resist himself. _Screw bloody pride. _

She closed her eyes as his cool breath floated over to her face. "Merlin, Ginny, I didn't mean to hurt you. I never thought you would…"

"That I would feel the same?" Ginny supplied, her chocolate orbs opening and engulfing him in their swimming openness. "Stop talking for once and just listen, would you? I care about you and you care about me. So what are we going to do about it?"

And at the moment, with Blaise Zabini listening on the other side of the door and Ginny Weasley mere inches away from his face, Draco Malfoy did the one thing he had wanted to do for months.

"We're going to do what I should have done a long time ago," he said hoarsely, determination in his eyes. And he slammed her body against the door, hearing Blaise's muffled "Merlin!" somewhere in the back of his mind. He pushed her, not hard, but gently pinning her between him and the door, giving her a chance to run if she wanted to. He loosened his hold on her and watched, questioningly, as she brought a hand up and traced the narrow line of his cheek, bringing her other hand up to run through his feather-light hair.

_She doesn't want to leave_, he realized with a pang in his heart. _She wants to stay_. _With me._

Ginny's eyes sparkled with passion as she felt him run his hands down her back and they rested just above the swell of her behind. Malfoy breathed her name softly into her ear as he nibbled the lobe, eliciting sweet sounds from the girl. Ginny wrapped her arms around the reformed Death Eater's neck, murmuring back to him, as he kissed her hair, her neck, her forehead and her nose with the softest lips imaginable. Gazes meeting, they simply looked at each other, lust and shine sparkling between the two, before Ginny lost her patience.

She had, after all, always been the impatient one.

So she grabbed his face in her hands as she stood on her tip-toes to reach his mouth and kissed him on those soft, kissable lips like her life depended on it.

And he kissed back.

15 months after the Second Wizarding War, the most unlikely couple in recent history was united.

**The end. Or…just the beginning.**

**Please review!**


End file.
